Black & Black DISCONTINUED
by krownie
Summary: Ramsey D. Monroe, a girl who felt like freedom was a myth and that she was bound by chains in her previous life. After experiencing her own death, Monroe is propelled into a second life in the world of One Piece, a world that introduced her to the notion of freedom for the first time. But there's one catch—she's blind.
1. Chapter 1

When I first opened my eyes, I was met with a confusing monochromatic palette. It was like God slapped a paper on my face, where a kindergarten child previously spilled their Crafts paint on, and told me that was all I would be seeing for the duration of my life. Or, more appropriately, my second life.

Yes, you heard that right—I died.

And no, my death would not be recorded by the media, because it wasn't a glorious vehicle collision or a devastating plane crash. No, I had lost a battle. Against who? You may aptly ask. I'll tell you, friend.

Stroke.

Yes, a death that should be frowned upon. My family would've been mourning over my surrender to the illness, though as much as I wanted to rectify that I did fight, I couldn't. That wasn't my life anymore. And apparently, God decided to load my karma onto this one, as I couldn't experience my second life with a full view—I experienced it with no view at all. When I died, I saw black. And then I lived again, only seeing black. Was I damned to a full circle of reincarnation, but with a small fault: I was to be reborn with a disability? I was a mute in my last life, and then, my power of speech was bestowed upon me again, at the cost of my sight.

How lovely.

Yes, I was an eccentric mute in my previous life. I was born to a family with six children to begin with, and because of my disability, I warranted unnecessary over-protectiveness from my family. I grew up as the sixth child to then seven children, and apparently, infant reinforcements that kept my baby brother in place applied to me as well. While my siblings would leave for school, I received my education through countless private tutors. My mother or grandmother would be waiting by the door, watching intently as I collected more knowledge. Apparently, science proved that disabled people have more fragile tempers—I only ever went apeshit in my house once, and that was only because my parents decided to prohibit access to my room's balcony.

I would be imprisoned in my room, and at times, even my siblings forgot about my existence. My name was taboo out of the house, and if ever mentioned, the fact that I was a pureblood child of this family would be easily shrugged off. Again, how lovely.

I grew up a recluse, accompanied by an assortment of books and a treadmill I had lugged into my room when I was eight. When I wasn't studying, I would be indulging in fiction, running on the treadmill. When I was ten, I gathered the guts to sneak out of my family's gargantuan abode. I hadn't made it far past the massive gates because a security guard noticed me, so I kept the notion of exploring for another day.

I decided after that, that if I couldn't break outside the boundaries of home, I would search my siblings' rooms. My first sister was a snorefest if anything, but it was expected from the eldest child. As I browsed her room I only found crumpled paper behind her bed, desk, and chair, and only one so far had an inappropriate male no-no scribbled on it. I stuffed it in my pocket for safekeeping. My second sister was an emo, my third brother was a preppy asshole, my fourth brother was a resident douchebag jock, but I found rummaging through my fifth sister's bedroom most enlightening. Beneath a pile of untouched laundry, I found a stack of picture books, hidden quite nicely from the world. I snuck the stack into my room, and I examined the front cover of the first volume intently. The title was etched in a funny font and I found the skull detail quite amusing. One Piece. That was when my love for reading manga first bubbled inside. I got to experience an exciting adventure with the main character, beloved Monkey D. Luffy, and his crew, the Straw Hats. I remember being snuggled up in bed reading up on all the volumes I could before my sister realized my foul play. These 'picture books' were entrancing to me, as I could vividly see the sketched drawings on every page, feel like I was with them. And the sense of freedom that came with it was enlightening. I didn't get quite far, as my sister had berated me for theft and equipped security on her door. I didn't mind, because soon enough, I discovered anime.

Other than reading and watching anime, exercise became a channel where I burn my boredom. I snuck items from the gym in the residence, but I mostly utilized the jumping rope and treadmill. When I was twelve, I was permitted to leave the safety of my house, though the limit of this freedom reached to the walls that confined the property. I would regularly run and jog outside, it didn't take long for me to bring my everyday activities outside. I grew fast and agile. And then, I witnessed the Olympics on television. Though I admit the segments where they featured athletics like tennis and softball were interesting, it was the segments that featured gymnastics that truly enthralled me.

Now, I wouldn't say that I was a dumb kid. Every other day I'd be clocking in more private tutoring and reading. I got increasingly bored in fiction, though I found salvation in encyclopedia books. Despite that, traces of immaturity remained in me, albeit dormant. The day after the Olympics enlightenment, I locked myself in my room and attempted simple yoga positions. After acing the tree pose and somewhat completing a few minutes of a backbend, I determined myself flexible enough to attempt a split.

Yeah. It didn't work out very well.

My screams were muted out—pun intended—and I looked nothing short of demonic. Mouth wrangling around painfully but no sound emitting. I felt sincerely lucky that I attracted no one's attention, or they would've had the devilish apparition known as the 'Wendell Scream' befallen upon them. Which comes to mind, I've never really told you about my previous name, haven't I? Well, it was Wendell Kirkland. As British as my name sounded, trust me when I tell you this—I'm Australian.

Getting off-track here. I tried improving my gymnastics from there. I tuned into the television daily for any instructions. When that didn't work, I instructed a security guard to smuggle a book for me. I tried to keep up with my studies but I allotted more time to studying gymnastics rather than clocking extra studying hours. When I got the split down, I began thumbing through the pages for more positions and tricks—dear Lord, that sounded wrong. I remember vividly how my maid shrieked when I was performing back handsprings in the backyard—every time I saw her, I made sure to assume a yoga position. I didn't see her anymore after the first week of doing it.

As I grew up, I learnt more moves, though it was safe to say that I very much preferred performing korbut flips on the twin trees that grew in the backyard. When I turned seventeen, I celebrated by performing a sequence of flips and springs... to escape the walls that bound me inside the virtual prison. It was fading into the night, and the illumination that the crescent moon provided supported me as I sprinted down the road, beaming as the evening breeze whistled past me.

Uplifting, to say the least. Yet it didn't last very long. When I drifted into the city, I had purchased a can of alcohol and was chugging down the bitter liquid as I traversed down the dimly-lit streets, the way back home. What happened next set a definite limit to my life. I had walked upon a group of thugs jumping an innocent woman, and my stupid brain decided to play hero. Except, I never exactly understood the concept of rescuing someone. All I could do was dodge their blows, I couldn't deliver one myself because of my incompetence. After I lured a thug into a back alley, I went to usher the woman and child to safety. But apparently, I just tore myself an opening, as the next thing I knew, something hard swung against the side of my head.

When I woke up, I was bedridden in a medical hospital. An incessant buzz was tinging my auditory senses, but that wasn't what shocked me. My vision failed to gather itself, failed to focus. An abstract picture acted as my vision, and from the get-go, I knew something went terribly wrong. The blow surprised the blood vessels in my brain, I received enough hits to prompt a hemorrhage. My brain's vessels surrendered and ruptured. It was torture since then.

First, I never regained normal visual again.

Second, I lost the use of the right side of my person.

Third, I was deprived of use of my left side. Completely paralyzed.

Fourth, I could no longer see through my right eye.

Fifth, I never passed a day without a beating migraine that willed my demise.

Sixth? The will of the illness overpowered mine, and I got exactly what it was determined to deliver to me. My demise.

The migraine was overpowering. My sore joints suddenly feel like it rusted, and my paralyzed limbs jolted like I had just been electrocuted. My heart rushed against my ribcage, like it was trying to escape the grips of death, before the once great muscle succumbed to it. I remembered the steady buzz of the cardiac machine before I faded into death... which I embraced readily.

I died. And now, I was given a second chance. I knew that I couldn't waste it.

* * *

 **A/N: Dear Lord, my first fanfiction. I transferred it from my phone to my laptop so if I failed to apply stuff such as BOLD, ITALICS, or UNDERLINE onto appropriate words I sincerely apologize :,).**

 **So hello! I never actually existed in before I wrote this fanfiction, so I'm obviously a fresh face around. I'm not the best writer, but I can't just ignore my exploding imagination. So I decided to pay homage to this amazing work by Eiichiro Oda-sama.**

 **If you've noticed, I dedicated most of the chapter to explain her love of gymnastics rather than diving deep into the fact that she loves One Piece. It's a defining feature, yes, but it's not what defines her exactly, so I allotted more writing to explaining her favorited hobby and passion: gymnastics. I hope this clears up some confusion.**

 **Well, I have nothing else to say. Thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two.**

* * *

Screw monochrome. If I could live out my life only seeing a clash of abstract color as my palette, that would certainly be more enticing. Though admittedly I would end up with gag-inducing headaches everyday, at least I'd get a frequent reminder of the colors I couldn't see anymore. I was pretty sure that I'd blur my pinks with my reds as I grew up.

When I was reborn to this new world, I thought that I was dead. Stillborn. My blinking eyelids provided a familiar sensation. Flapping my lids again and again. I knew that my eyes were open. Why was it that I couldn't see anything? The same hue of raven greeted me. Was I dead? Dreaming? Asleep? My infant mind couldn't handle the emotions that I amounted onto it, and as quick as ever, my panic made itself shown by pitiful wails and sobs. I remember when I detested infants for their whining and ear-shattering cries, yet now I was subjecting myself to it.

Something displayed itself in a form of a memory in my old life. I'd read somewhere, that research has proven that people blind since birth received additions to their other senses. At first I marvelled at the prospect of having infrasonic hearing like bats, but when those auditory abilities made themselves clear it did nothing but panic me further. I could hear everything. A barrage of unrecognizable voices congratulating my maternal figure, uncomfortable shifting of my mother in bed and her quiet sobs of joy, even the distant chirps of seagulls.

Something grabbed me. The doctor? I felt something warm wrap itself around my infant form—a towel soaked in warm water. It reached up and obscured my apparent cropped locks, I wonder what color they were? Were they the same murky brown I had previously? Most likely. Unless the world I lived in allowed impeccable natural hues for hair. I could feel myself be cradled. Hearing everything, I knew that I was alright. I could hear the steady beat of my little heart and my breathing. I was fine.

My eyes were closed when the doctor moved to my mother. What was her expression like? Was she elated, enthusiastic, or couldn't care less? I opted for the one in the middle. "Congratulations, you have a healthy baby gi-"

I opened my eyes.

My doctor abruptly cut his sentence. Light... no light. No sun for me. I was looking up, into the doctor's eyes, I presumed. I imagined him with a pair of spectacles with a thick black rims, his dull brown eyes widening as the gloomy realization dawned on him. Hold up, was my blindness apparent? Did my lack of movement give it away?

"Doctor, what's the matter?" a timid yet raspy voice questioned, her tone tinged with worry. Her voice was soothing, deep, and calm, though somewhat affected by childbirth. The doctor gulped, apparently hesitant to disclose my condition. Were they going to tell my mother that it was just a minor complication, it'll go away?

"Uh, ma'am, we-"

"Let me see her," my mother interrupted with a certain urgency lacing her words. This was it. My new mother would take a look at me and feel herself overwhelming with sadness, and she'd hand me back to the doctor. "Take her somewhere I'll never see her," she would say, and I wouldn't cry. No, I wouldn't. I expected this.

"But ma'am-"

"Let me see my _child_ ," she demanded more clearly now, and I shifted in the doctor's arms. I promised myself not to cry, but the prospect of losing my parents so early in my second chance could easily invoke waterworks. I tried to wave away the negative thoughts, no one likes a pessimistic baby.

The doctor reluctantly handed my fragile form to my mother. I presumed that I was already moved, as something cold seeped through my warm wrappings. Now let's test my touching senses. I reached out with a small palm, and I brushed over something tangled but ringed. Hair? I gripped it and played my fingers in the locks. Yes, definitely hair. They felt like silky threads, clumped up. Caked with sweat too. I pushed through the hair, and found my mother's supposed shoulder blades. A velvety chuckle sounded, and my small fingers were cupped with bigger ones.

"Hello there," a soft voice cooed. What's this? So my blindness wasn't apparent? I tried moving my eyeballs, but I couldn't determine if they did move because, obviously, my view couldn't confirm it.

"She's blind, ma'am." How earth-shattering! What a shaking surprise!

"Just like her father," my mother whispered. My father, huh? Where was the tough guy? Was he here? And concerning 'here', where was 'here'? I couldn't hear any heartbeat monitor. As if on cue, my ears were greeted with the soft sound of the ocean overlapping each other in waves, nonchalantly brushing over the blanket of sands on the coast. We were near the beach. Was I born in my home? That still happened?

"Ggg-goo," I gurgled incoherently. Even I was confused at my own babyish statement. Apparently the capability of speech hadn't been loaded fully onto my system, not yet perfectly mounted to my throat, tongue and voice.

"Hello," my mom replied quietly. "My, you're quite beautiful. You look just like your father. Oh, but you can't see yourself, can't you? I promise to tell you all about it when you grow up. Welcome to the world," she said, and the doctor was too stunned to speak up.

"We talked of your name countless times, your father and I. I have to apologize to him for not letting him name you," she choked out, and then something cold dropped ony cheek. The teardrop slid down my chin. My father...

"P-p-pa," I spluttered, and my mother laughed. Her emotions were a confusing mix of happiness, pity, satisfaction, and sadness. "Yes, yes, your pa," she gulped.

"Emiko-san," the doctor muttered, and there was silence in the room for a few beats. Something like a handkerchief padded the beads of tears that had slipped onto my cheeks when she cried. After Emiko supposedly returned the napkin to the doctor, she began thumbing through my hair. I hope it wasn't a dull brown—a nice chestnut would be preferable.

"We had a long, long talk about your name," she continued, with a mournful tone. "Your father loved the sea. Even though he never saw it. No, no... he was obsessed with the ocean. All of your names, had at least the smallest relation to the sea. So I gave in eventually."

I found myself interested in my father figure. Even though he'd never seen the sea, he was infatuated with it? Was he in the navy?

"Welcome to the world, Ramsey D. Monroe."

Ramsey D. Monroe.

Monroe. Scottish for 'mouth of a river'. Ramsey... and D? What does it stand for? I couldn't help but be somewhat reminded of the nameless D's of One Piece. Though if we're speaking of Eiichiro Oda's capability of naming, then it would be something like 'Demon'.

But the name managed to send shivers down my spine, my skin split the sensation of goosebumps. The name was somehow masculine but had a female bohemian tone to it. Monroe... catchy. I smiled as a sign of acceptance.

Mom chuckled, and calloused fingers caressed my cheeks. She accepted me, and maybe now, I could live out a normal life. Who cares if I was blind? I'd just show them the bird, easy enough. I had a second chance, and for starters, it was going pretty damned good.

"I heard that there's a new baby!" a voice suddenly exclaimed exuberantly, and the sound of a door being roughly flung open thumped in my ears. "Where's the little runt?!"

"Naomi-san! Please keep it down, Emiko-san just went through childbirth!"

"Screw that! Where's my niece slash nephew?"

Well shit.

* * *

When the reincarnated form of the devil known as Naomi, my mom's younger sister, arrived to visit us, I was whisked away into her arms and coddled mercilessly. Barrages in the form of pinches rained down their wrath on my cheeks and stomach, and as much as I tried to slap them away, I had a horrible sense of aim. I resorted to crying to the point of shrieking, but what I got was Naomi screaming back at me. My ears hurt.

Wherever I was, it certainly wasn't a hospital. Maybe an infirmary of some sorts. I thought of that when I remained in my mom's sometimes suffocating clutch, instead of a separate room where I would be put in a crib. Man, being a baby again was boring, especially because I was fully conscious during the experience. Sure, all I did was drink and sleep and cry to escape Naomi's demonic embrace, but I couldn't just wrestle out of mom's hold and start doing backhand springs. I could receive the moniker 'Devil Child'.

And as far as I'm concerned, a gymnastics professional in the form of an infant deserved the title more than Nico Robin. Sorry, Robin. Do an Arabian Double Front as a 7-year-old and maybe I'd consider handing the epithet over.

We stayed in the infirmary for approximately five days, before I was thoroughly cleaned up, and then Naomi fitted me into clothes. "They're too big on her!" mom pointed out, and the sisters laughed at what I assumed was the most ridiculous baby outfit ever. "Wait, lemme just tie this judo belt on her..." something like a sash wrapped around my oversized pants, and when Naomi stopped to admire her work, the two laughed again.

These two were really sisters from hell.

We greeted the doctor goodbye—at least the sisters did, I merely spluttered as I always did—and to my surprise, we went to wherever I would be living out the rest of my life in by foot. No car? No bike? Was I blown back in time or something?

"How's the dojo going, Naomi?"

"Goin' as it always does, Emi-nee-cchi. Though we got more applicants, it's more of those troublemaker brats."

"How's Kuina?"

"Oh, Koshiro-nii-chin's brat? Couldn't stop trying to pommel a cat with a bamboo stick."

Wait. Wait, wait, wait... my mind scrambled when I got the buttload of information from the exposing conversation. Koshiro? Dojo? And what puzzled me the most... Kuina?

All of those names, I swore that I read them somewhere in the One Piece manga, in its anime, and its Wikipedia page when I hijacked the office computer. It couldn't be... but it could. The rational side of my brain tried to reason with me, maybe I was born in the medieval age of Japan, but the opposite side was screaming bloody murder out of the fact that I might have been reborn into the One Piece world.

"And how's _your_ brat, Naomi?"

"The mosshead ain't mine, Emi-nee-cchi. I just found him. Keisa-san's taken him in."

"I bet you must feel lonely then."

"Says who?! You've got a brat now, and you gotta share."

Mosshead? Marimo? Roronoa Zoro. Fuck, well shit, well crap. The rational side of my brain stuttered with its lack of argument. Out of all the worlds I could've been reborn in, I was born into One Piece? The world where normal body proportions are a myth? The world where humans from my previous world had less stamina than the civilians here?

"Yo, Emi-nee-cchi, Monroe ain't lookin' too happy."

I tried to aim a kick at Naomi's face.

* * *

 **A/N: Second chapter! That's a wrap! Did you like how I made the connections between Monroe and Zoro? It wasn't pretty smooth, but I'm proud of it nonetheless. I apologize for the short chapters, I'm planning to transition to Third Person. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three.**

* * *

When Kuina was introduced to the prospect of a cousin, she felt fairly elated. However, when she faced her new cousin Monroe, she found herself being introduced to the sense of rivalry. Raven eyes bore deep into the dead gaze of the infant. The dark-haired girl's mother nudged her forward in an attempt to prompt an interaction between the two. Monroe was perfectly content staying still whilst Emiko played with her cropped platinum blonde locks, whilst Kuina was perfectly content glaring at the baby.

"This is your cousin, Kuina," her mother provoked, giving her child a subtle nudge again. "Say hello."

Kuina gulped, feeling hesitant in greeting the baby. The pair of eyes that couldn't see were pinned at the bridge of Kuina's nose and completely void of emotion, but the way the baby's eyebrows were arched, nearly felt like she was waiting for a proper greeting from Kuina. So the older girl forced out, "hi."

Emiko squealed in delight at Kuina's statement. She clasped her fingers around Monroe's shoulders. "Can you say 'hello' back to Kuina, Mon-chan? Say it with me, sweetie, he...llo."

Kuina looked at Monroe in anticipation. She uttered her first word when she was seven months old, how about Monroe? The younger girl was confined into her room for three months, Kuina doubted the fact that she could even say 'dada'.

"C'mon, Mon-chan!"

Monroe blinked, lids drooped as she uttered out nonchalantly, "yo."

The jaws of Emiko and Kuina's mother dropped simultaneously, but Kuina found herself slightly grinning. Yeah, this rivalry's gonna be sweet.

* * *

 _"When Kuina first wielded a bamboo sword properly, she declared a rivalry between us. She could easily beat up one of Koshiro-ji's students, but she wanted to challenge me the most. Experiencing sibling rivalry was a blast."_

* * *

"You piece of shit!" Naomi exclaimed, bursting from the sliding doors of Isshin Dojo, headed to the open field behind. She handled a brown sash as if it were a whip and possessed a smouldering glare capable of burning holes into steel.

"Give me back my judo sash!" she barked demandingly, eyes darting around to search for the waddling brat. Where was she? She didn't want to degrade disabled people, but the brat was young and blind. How far could she scramble? Naomi half-expected the kid to be face-first by the shrubbery. Did she crawl inside?

As if on cue, a subtle breeze passed by and the bushes rustled. After the wind dissipated it rustled as if a living being was nestled in it, and a smirk rose up to Naomi's lips as she inched closer. "Alright, you little runt, come out. I've gotcha surrounded," she threatened. It rustled again. Naomi poked her face closer to the bushes, but then squeaked in surprise when a squirrel leapt out instead of the brat. The rodent hopped onto Naomi's face before the woman slapped it slightly, causing it to bounce off.

"BRAT!" Naomi howled, and as if on cue, a branch snapped under pressure and there was a quiet huff as a person landed on the ground. Naomi inverted her position and caught the kid scrambling to her feet, a black belt in hand as she began running to the kenjutsu dojo. Naomi grit her teeth and started a weak chase, since the pace of the kid was considerably slow as well.

However, Naomi gave up the chase with a gleeful bark of laughter when Monroe's toes buckled unexpectedly at the paved pathway, and the girl tripped with a squeal. Naomi nonchalantly ambled over, picking the kid up by the scruff of her neck and throwing her over her shoulder.

"Let me down!"

"You know you could've asked."

"You wouldn't have given it to me anyways!"

"What the hell do you want it for anyways?"

"None of your business! Let me go, you hag!"

The scuffle was momentarily silenced when Koshiro flung the door to the kenjutsu door open. Soft eyes were behind lenses of spectacles, though it directed a glare at the rowdy pair. Naomi grinned at the man. "Koshiro-nii-chin, sorry. Just wait a bit, I just gotta bring the brat inside and-"

"Koshiro-san!" Monroe yelped when she realized the older man's presence. "I have a black belt!" she said, lifting the arm that held the sash. Flourishing it she added, "I can train in swords now right?"

Koshiro pushed his spectacles upward, mouth upturned into a small smile. The child had previously requested his tutelage, and though he worried that she would fail because of her unfortunate circumstances, she proved resilient in the attempt. "Koshiro-san, do you want me to show you a korbut flip? Then you'll take me? Or maybe a fifteen-minute backbend? Or-"

"Shush, Monroe," Koshiro picked up his voice, folding his arms with a twinkle in his eyes. He nodded at his bewildered younger sister. "Naomi, you can let her down. I need to train my new student."

* * *

 _"Naomi bopped my head when I got back from my first training session. She didn't look mad, instead she just told me to call her sensei. From that day on I became a kenjutsu and judo student. What's the harm in trying new things? Second chances are rare, shouldn't waste them."_

* * *

"Mom," Monroe called as she knocked the wooden frame of the sliding door. Naomi was beaming proudly next to her, fingers intertwined with the blind girl. Despite the fact that Monroe had familiarized herself with the layout of the dojo, the unpredictability of nature usually had her stumbling around asking for assistance. Surprisingly enough, Naomi offered to lead her.

Well, under the circumstances of that day, it wasn't quite surprising.

Emiko meandered up to the door, smile ever-present as she slid the door out of the way. Monroe's eyes were pinned onto Emiko's hip, but she smiled when her ears alerted her of her mother's presence. Emiko knelt down, planting a light peck on Monroe's forehead.

"How's my sabrecat doing?"

"Your kid's a monster!" Naomi said in reply, causing Monroe to scowl and Emiko to look up in confusion. Naomi noticed the small error and then corrected quickly, "in a good way!"

Emiko quirked a curious eyebrow, before ruffling Monroe's platinum hair. "Oh? Is that so?"

"She plowed past all the students I threw at her," Naomi promulgated, patting Monroe's shoulder roughly. "She's an orange belt! Imagine that, an orange belt within a week! Your kid'll be beating up my adult students within three weeks tops!"

Emiko smiled, content and proud as she nuzzled her forehead to Monroe who purred silently at the attention. "Of course she can! She's my sabrecat, after all! And how's your sword lessons?"

Silence fell upon Naomi and Monroe as they shared an uneasy look. Naomi gulped. "Well, it's not like Mon-baka always falls over cause the bamboo sword's bigger than her-"

"IDIOT!" Monroe cried out, throwing her leg in the air before plummeting it down, slamming the heel down Naomi's toes. Naomi winced, and pulled her foot away. "IDIOT! IDIOT! IDIOT!" Monroe continued smacking the ground, barely noticing the fact that she was mercilessly assaulting the soil. "Don't tell her you idiot!" Monroe exclaimed, abruptly stopping her soil-attack when her heel plummeted down a rock.

"Ouch," the blind girl whispered quietly. Naomi released a chuckle, pressing her palm down on Monroe's head and ruffling her blonde hair. "Well, Emi-nee-cchi, your kid doesn't exactly have the strong build."

"Kuina teases me for it," Monroe lamented.

Emiko seemed pensively silent, gazing at her child with a melancholic gaze.

* * *

 _"Kodachi swords?" Emiko quizzed her husband, a pair of mediocre-length blades rested in her palms. The steel was smooth against her skin, not quite heavy. Her husband looked up from the splendid blue sea, eyes directed a dead forward._

 _"You're not the buff katana user?" Emiko pressed on playfully, eliciting an amused chuckle from her husband._

 _"It's not that, Chiko," he replied, using his pet name for his beloved wife. "When I first started learning swords, the bamboo sticks were too heavy for me. I can lift one now, but... smaller blades work better for me."_

 _Emiko whistled. "I see. Koshiro-nii's the swordsman amongst us, and he uses the katana, so I guess seeing people practice kenjutsu without the common katana is uncommon for me."_

 _"Yeah, well, I like to think of myself as a slick and quick person. These swords are smaller and lighter."_

 _"Slick and quick, huh?" Emiko muttered._

* * *

"Naomi, can you go get a bamboo sword for me?"

"Eh? I can, but why-"

"Naomi, just go get a bamboo sword please."

"Hai!" Naomi saluted cheerfully, before bolting off the the kenjutsu dojo. Emiko sighed, before glancing at her child. Five-years old, and an orange belt already. An a gymnast, to boost—Emiko remembered when she first discovered Monroe trying to lift her own weight whilst in split position.

Yup, she's his child. Emiko mused in melancholy.

"Monroe, here," Emiko clasped her fingers around Monroe's little palm and smiled, despite the fact that she knew Monroe couldn't see it. Yet, she didn't question.

The small house that they lived in was enough to accomodate nine people. Though sometimes, Koshiro opted to sleep in his dojo, so it was more spacey. Emiko led Monroe through the veining corridors, before stopping in front of a particular door. It had been locked for quite some time, untouched, but it was taboo to even suggest it being remodeled or demolished.

"We're by the room left to our bedroom," Emiko told Monroe. "Have you ever been here before?"

Monroe inclined her head slowly. "Uh-huh. It was locked."

"Well, today, we're going to see what's inside," Emiko said, fishing the key from her pockets before sticking it in the hole. She turned it until an audible click popped and she slid it open.

It was barely lit, the sunshine streaming in subtle rays through thin blinds covering the windows. The wooden beams that served as floors were blanketed with a mat, and up front, pressed against the wall was a small desk with three shelves. On the top shelf, there were two unlit candles and incense, and a neatly framed portrait. Dust had collected on it, increased through age.

A man with a somewhat mischievous but wholehearted smile was documented in the image. Platinum blonde hair peeled into a short ponytail, what should have been amber eyes, but they were a deep peach. He wore a kimono similar to Koshiro's, and shared the same slender and lean stature but muscular as well. He was a handsome man, with an equally beautiful heart.

"Mom," Monroe tugged Emiko's arm. "Where are we?"

Wordlessly, Emiko led Monroe to the altar. On the third shelf Emiko withdrew a box matches, and she lit one stick. "Monroe, here," carefully, the ravenette slipped the lit match into Monroe's fingers. The heat from the small flame brushed upon Monroe's fist and the blind girl knew what it was. Gently, Emiko grabbed Monroe's wrist, guiding her palm and the match to the candles. The room was illuminated by the soft glow of two candles, and when the incense was lit, the vivid scent of lavenders wafted.

"Mom, where are we?" Monroe repeated this time, the aroma prodding her nose. Emiko knelt in front of the shrine. "Monroe, sit down." Monroe sat cross-legged.

Emiko inhaled, before saying, "we're in your father's shrine."

Monroe silenced with realization washing over her.

Emiko reached out and picked up a pair of short blades, smaller than a katana but bigger than a dagger. The steel was caked with dust, though the sword was glinting under the candles. Emiko blew the dust and it puffed into a small smoke, before resting them on Monroe's lap. The blind girl brushed her fingers over the cold metal.

"Your father was like you too when you were young," Emiko began. "He was a short boy as a child. When I first met him, that was when we were twelve, he was shorter than me! He was an avid swordsman, but he couldn't handle the bamboo swords very well. The katanas were too heavy for him. So guess what he did? He called me, and together we broke the bamboo stick into two. These new sticks proved to serve better for him. It was lighter, so at first it wasn't so effective. But then he began using its weight to his advantage. He was lean, quick, and flexible. When he learnt how to use those attributes for his two small bamboo sticks, he became the best in his dojo."

Emiko paused for a while to collect herself. "In my eyes, your father was the greatest swordsman in the world."

She watched Monroe, the latter ever so silent. What reaction would be elicited from the girl? Would she cry? Or did she not care? Emiko didn't expect the outcome, however. Monroe found the hilts to the two kodachi blades, and she gently rested them in front of her. She clapped her palms together, and morphed into a pensive state. She was praying.

No, she didn't cry. But what she did made Emiko's emotions overflow. Emiko was slightly gaping, tears streaming down her face. Gradually, her lips upturned into a soft smile.

 _Are you seeing this, sweetheart? Our child is an angel._

"Emiko-nee-cchi?" Naomi's voice entered the atmosphere. The glow of the candle streamed subtly through the thin walls and through the small crack of the door. Naomi slid the door open, and stepped inside with a bamboo stick in hand. "Here," she said, surprisingly quiet. With a grateful nod Emiko accepted the stick.

"Monroe," Emiko muttered when her daughter finished her silent prayer. Monroe stared straight ahead, but Emiko knew she was listening.

Naomi watched with a satisfied grin, when an audible snap sounded. Emiko had broken the bamboo stick into two, and she inserted the sticks in Monroe's grip. With a smile, she planted a kiss on her daughter's forehead. "Promise me that you'll take care of your father's legacy?"

Monroe replied it with a beam. "I promise."

* * *

 _"In my second chance, I never met my father. But I could tell that he was a great man. I don't know if I can come to love him, but I'm proud of him."_

* * *

 **A/N: That's another wrap! I'm so sorry for the long wait, finals is around the corner so I have no time to write :'(. Thank you for so many reviews, favorites and follows!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four.**

* * *

Koshiro was nothing short of surprised when Monroe waddled up, flourishing her dual-wielded short bamboo proudly and asking the older man if he had any proficiency in handling these types of swords.

He knew Emiko was somewhat involved in this abrupt change of style. When he arrived at their humble abode he found himself scenting incense, only to find that the locked shrine had been reopened and that Monroe had taken to tending to it daily. It was a task to get Naomi to tell him what happened, as the youngest couldn't help but glide to the sidetrack, but when he did learn why, he pried open his memories regarding dual-wielding, and notified an excited Monroe that she could take private lessons with him.

No, he wasn't the best at dual-wielding shorter blades, but he was better than most. If that was what Monroe aspired to study for the remainder of her life, she could very well grow to be better than him. With base knowledge and and a strong foundation from Koshiro, she could go on to build it up herself. That, assured him despite his lack of mastery.

Kuina didn't seem too elated to find that her rival had no interest in handling katanas like her, but her mood was immediately restored when Naomi offered lessons to her so she could spar Monroe hand-to-hand. The girl almost challenged the green-belted girl in her yellow belt rank, though her fear of losing her dignity if she were defeated aided in wiping the notion away. She was a swordsman, after all, not a martial artist, her brashness was a trait she beholded from her upbringing.

Monroe grew up to be swift and quick, replicating her father's style perfectly. No doubt she could grow to be stronger than him. Her light weapons coupled with her judo experience and gymnastics resulted in a style she developed herself, sporting the name 'Gyudo', a silly but understandable portmanteau of gymnastics and judo. Kuina had suggested it as a joke, but Monroe plastered the name onto her style as it fit, though it still sounded somewhat dumb.

Emiko was ultimately pleased when Monroe promulgated that she would be practicing Gyudo from then, demonstrating some flips that had judo throws lacing them. Though she hadn't mapped out the location for her demonstration very well—resulting in her face crashing against the wall after performing a cartwheel—Emiko still felt pride bubbling furiously in her.

 _This is your child,_ she had mused when she was nursing Monroe's bump. _This is our sabrecat._

The next day, Emiko slipped into the dojo, half to see Koshiro's method of training, half to see Monroe when her tyke decided to dabble in standard katana-wielding. Alas she handled the bamboo stick with newfound strength, that Naomi proudly stated had stemmed from when Monroe succeeded in throwing a student thrice her size. Emiko was watching in delight, though she found herself ecstatic when Monroe snapped the bamboo in two and came to kneel besides Koshiro. Emiko and Koshiro shared amused expressions, and Koshiro found himself not obliged to scold Monroe. It was upon her decision that she wanted to try her hand in standard kenjutsu, she could decide for herself.

The training progressed, the first half being performing simple strikes in repetition. Koshiro ceased the practice with a curt bark, and all students poised into a static position. Koshiro leapt up from his kneeling position, traversing to front to address his students.

"Does any of you know defensive stances?"

When a the students murmured before collectively shaking her head, Koshiro turned around. Kuina was sat next to Monroe, and the two were engaging in small talk, though it wasn't exactly delightful in Monroe's part as she kept scowling. "Monroe, Kuina," said Koshiro in a nonchalant tone, though it was enough to obtain the two's attention.

"Yes, father?"

"What's up, uncle?"

"Please demonstrate basic defensive states to your colleagues."

Kuina eyed the group of weaker students for a split second before heaving herself up, Monroe following shortly after. Kuina led Monroe to the front, positioning her on the left wing whilst she scurried off to the right wing.

"Kuina, attack. Monroe, defend."

Emiko watched silently but happily when Kuina moved forward to attack with her bamboo. Monroe stayed silent, shifting ever so slightly. It was in slow-motion for her, she couldn't hear anything else but Kuina. Every step. Every move as Kuina's body produced an audible whoosh. The bamboo... Kuina lifted it, and brought it down, but Monroe didn't move. Kuina was too slow, almost hesitant. No, she wasn't reluctant, not in the slightest. Monroe was proved right when a whoosh popped as the bamboo swifted down, brushing her nose, but levelling with her knee. It was a fake- Kuina was aiming for her hip. If Monroe did fall for the fake, her hands would be too occupied guarding her head, proving defenseless against the hip strike.

Kuina made the big mistake of crying out as she thrusted the bamboo to Monroe's hip. Everything was slow again as Monroe concentrated. Kuina's bamboo was gradually prodding Monroe's gi when Monroe slammed down one of her bamboos to throw off the attack, before stepping forward quickly and striking Kuina's grip with the other bamboo. She quickly turned and upwards, about to line her bamboo with Kuina's throat though it matched her collarbone. Kuina just smirked. She wasn't disappointed in the defeat, she was well-aware of Monroe's supernatural hearing and the nearly superhuman speed that branched from it. No, the brash ways of kendo didn't stand a chance against speed, so Kuina had jotted down the must to take up speed lessons too.

"Good work," Koshiro praised the two girls, before promptly directing them back to their seats. Emiko was suppressing a squeal but her eyes were starry. Her child was like lightning, moving faster than a hummingbird's wings when she was performing the prevention. Koshiro went on to lecture his students on the basics of defense, occasionally asking Monroe to get up and perform a block or prevention. Soon enough, the students were back to repetitionally performing blocks and preventions.

"Monroe," Emiko called, her voice drowned out as the kids shouted short phrases when moving. Though, Monroe's ears picked it up quickly. She wove her way very slowly through the rows, some kids considerately pausing the moves to allow the blind girl to move, some even being kind enough as to lead her forward. Emiko clasped her arms around her child when Monroe nearly ran into her.

Wordlessly, Emiko led her outside. Monroe knew better than to question the complex woman, instead opting to follow her mom like a confused puppy. They walked and walked, outside the dojo walls, and soon enough, they were trekking down a shallow hill.

"Take your sandals off, Monroe," Emiko ordered, and Monroe slipped off her footwear. They stepped forward, and Monroe's feet sank into something grainy and soft, like flour. Monroe flexed her toes, lifting a foot slightly before sinking it again, testing the terrain. A salty scent wafted to her nose and she breathed it in deeply. The sound of waves overlapping each other in quiet crashes became apparent.

"Do you know where we are?" Emiko asked. "The beach," Monroe promptly answered and Emiko ruffled Monroe's platinum hair with a giggle. "Right you are, my genius sabrecat. Come along now."

They continued walking, until something cold washed over Monroe's feet. The young girl gasped and inched back unconsciously, eliciting a giggle from Emiko. "This is the ocean," Emiko whispered, hoisting Monroe up and placing her back where the saltwater washed over the coast. It was cold, liquid, that pulled back a few times before arriving again. Monroe tested the water out. The sand was still there. Were there any shells? Stones? She stepped forward gingerly. No, just soft sand.

"Monroe," Emiko started, fingers gripping Monroe's palm firmly. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Mom?"

"I know that you have exquisite hearing," Emiko breathed. "But tell me this... do yoy want to see?"

Silence. But it wasn't a tense silence, it was a pensive silence. Monroe gulped unsurely. "I... I do want to see, but... you're my eyes. I don't need to see."

Emiko glanced down Monroe with a kind gaze. "Your eyes?"

"Mhm. You can tell me what you see. I can paint them in my mind. You're my eyes."

Emiko calmly sighed, looking up at the scene again. It was morphing into night. Sky blue clashed with a wonderful fire palette before fading into a navy. The sun was hiding behind clouds, slowly sinking, but its glow was magnificently reflected on the clear blue seas. Her eyes, hm? If so, then Emiko had to make sure that she would be best eyes there ever was.

"Eyes, huh? Okay. So the water is green and polluted with trash, there's pollution smoke covering the sky-"

"Wait, what?"

Emiko laughed breezily as Monroe pouted. "Mom!"

"Sorry, sorry," Emiko giggled before calming herself down. The sea was lapping into subtle waves, creating the distinctive sound as it echoed through the atmosphere. The air was brilliant, fresh, ripe, and healthy.

"Ah," Emiko prepared herself. "The sea... how do I say it? It's a huge group of water, covering spaces bigger than the dojo. You wouldn't be able to travel everything within a week, it would take you months, even years. Even from where I'm standing, you can't see where the ending is. It's glowing, sparkling from the sun. It's... a clear blue, though I doubt you know what blue is-" Monroe was about to interrupt, say that she knew what blue was, but held her voice inside her throat, "-the waves are rising. Waves are water that rises in a group, a line, and then they come crashing down the surface. Do you hear that? Those are waves."

"What about the sky?"

"The sky?" Emiko tilted her head up. "The sky... there are clouds, clusters of... cotton, the soft things I normally use to clean your scraps and scratches. The clouds are usually high up, but because it's nearly nighttime, the clouds are lower. They're hiding the sun, that's why it's not hot. The sun... it's a huge ball of orange, sometimes red, that sits way up there, though now it's sinking to make way for the moon. The moon is white, a ball like the sun too, but it shines more dimly. The sky is usually blue during day, but nighttime, it's dark blue. In evenings, it's orange and-"

Emiko stopped herself with a sigh. "Sorry, I'm getting carried away. I'm confusing you with these colors, am I?"

"Can you describe the colors?" Monroe said, in a tone that was almost challenging. Emiko smirked. "Is that a challenge? Well, I accept it."

A smile bloomed on Monroe's face as Emiko began explaining the palette with short but accurate adjectives. "Blue is like the feeling of coldness. Red is the opposite, it's hot, it's the color of fire. Pink and white are soft colors, imagine an elated feeling. That's pink and white. Purple is elegant, like the feeling of silk. Green is ticklish, like the grass. And black? Well, you already know-"

Emiko's explanation was abruptly intercepted when something parroted in high-pitched squeaks, accompanied by crashes of water. Monroe unconsciously tightened her grasp on Emiko's hand. "Are those..."

"You must've heard them from the dojo," Emiko said. "Mhm. Dolphins. There are two... no, three... no, four!"

"I've never seen dolphins before," Monroe whispered and Emiko playfully slapped the back of Monroe's head. "Of course you haven't, Monroe."

Monroe forced an uneasy chuckle. In her past life, she only saw dolphins in books and television, never in real life. And now, they sound like a chorus, an adorable one too. "Do they always travel in groups?"

"Mm... no, I don't think so."

"Some can get lost, right?"

"Mhm."

"How do they get back?" it was reverb... something, right? Or was it echo?

"Echolocation!" Emiko said surely with a snap of her fingers. "They can make clicking sounds. It'll echo through their location and onward, allowing other dolphins to hear."

"Clicking... like bats right?"

"Uh-huh. Because most bats are near blind, they use echolocation to... see. They make clicks too, it'll echo through the location, around and come back. That way, they'll know what type of place they are in, where to fly and where they could crash."

"Then I want to learn echolocation too!" Monroe decided with a squeal, glancing to face a startled Emiko. "I want to see with echolocation too!"

 _Impossible_ , when Emiko looked into Monroe's glassy pale beryl eyes, she could see a slither of determination in those dead eyes. They never showed any emotion... and now...

"That way I'll be able to know where I am," Monroe continued. "I won't crash into anything... I'll be able to know where I'm fighting..."

Emiko was silent. She remembered. Echolocation. Her husband... click. Click. Click. The familiar sound of tongue-clicking was heard by Emiko. That was how he was always able to surprise her. There would be clicks, and he would leap out of nowhere. Echolocation, he knew how to get around the house and rooms and where Emiko was with echolocation.

"That's a great idea!" Emiko exclaimed. "I'll help you to the best of my ability. Okay? Monroe, I'll always be behind you."

But Monroe didn't look too happy. Instead, she just forced a small grin. When Emiko paused, there was a thoughtful atmosphere, she knew that Emiko was reminded of her father. Her father could do echolocation too. Despite how much Monroe respected the man, she absolutely did not want to grow up to be an exact replica of him. She was tired of being called, 'just like her father', tired of being called his clone. No, she's gonna get stronger. Become her own person. Then people would recognize her properly as Monroe. She would become her own person.

But still, echolocation was a pretty good idea.

* * *

 **A/N: Fourth chapter done! Sorry, not much went on. But be on the lookout for the fifth chapter, for there might be a certain marimo there ;).**

 **Sorry for the late update! I hope you enjoyed this one.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five.**

* * *

Approximately five years had passed since Monroe began her training. The girl was ten now, and at the cusp of her growth spurt, something she had longed for quite some time now. She wasn't exactly pleased with her height, though she had learned how to switch the situation in order to gain the upper hand, remaining a petite girl claiming to be an expert martial artist could result in embarrassment. She was still blind, too.

Five years since she began training. When she first tried to awaken her echolocation skills, she was ultimately startled at how effective it was. In her previous life, she couldn't make any vocal sound in her room, of course, but she could click her tongue, or drop something. And if she did, it was as if her room was a showroom with the best acoustics possible. But now, Monroe realized that even a dropping pin could qualify the room as the room with the worst acoustics ever. The sounds reverberated, bouncing off the walls. Just as a ball that you'd chuck against the wall, you could see it as it sprung off the wall and onto the opposite side, you could map out the room using this ball. This ball was Monroe's echolocation.

It proved quite simple for her, as her near-superhuman hearing provided her the basic foundation and structure for her to instantly start building on. Starting out simple, she analyzed the structure of her house in order to get around. If the sound bounced only halfway, that meant that there was something between, and she could veer to the side to avoid crashing. By the time she was nine, she had already begun to cover a small portion of a forest behind the dojo, locating a grove of trees and just where the clear path for her to tread was. Of course, she noted these mental maps, and soon enough had no trouble maneuvering around the tight-bound dojo.

Kuina seemed to be the most pleased when Monroe got a hang of her swordsmanship skills. Of course, the dark-haired girl challenged the younger to a spar multiple times, though exerting the best of her strength couldn't exactly reward her a clean win. Kuina couldn't parry a somersault, or cut flips. Sure, her skills with the handheld weapon exceeded those of Monroe's vastly, but the little tyke was faster than most, and fastest kid that Kuina's ever met, even. When Kuina did study up to improve her speed, she later found that the sounds of her limbs twisting and turning with newfound agility only provided Monroe with an advantage. Strength to speed, she didn't always lose, but she didn't always win. Speed to speed, it just became a wild goose chase on who can avoid most blows.

Now, the Dojo Siblings were the patrons to the life Monroe generated, so naturally they harbored most pride for the girl. Naomi would be beaming with pride, her grin wide enough to split her face, everytime Monroe defeated a student of hers in a spar. It would become a natural thing for Emiko to sweep Monroe up and perch her atop her shoulders, before parading her around the village. Koshiro was the subtlest one to showcase his pride, since the only fact that he favored was that he was the one responsible for Monroe's kenjutsu skills. That was as far as it went, he wasn't looking forward to when Monroe departed from the village, no, she was just a girl, a blind one, no less. But to the best of his ability, he would ensure her survival through his training.

And Monroe? Well, Monroe could very much say that she felt like she could wrestle a bear. Her death branched from the inability to defend herself, or to offend, and now, she could floor those assholes who doomed her in flat minutes. That beer bottle wouldn't touch her with her Gyudo.

Okay, it still sounded ridiculous, but it was worth developing. Judo required strength, especially with the throws, and gymnastics demanded agility. It was harder to expand and study, but it increased the level of power in the attacks. At ten, Monroe was strong enough to flip Naomi's students, airborne, nonetheless. The throws proved to be deadlier since gravity would pull her down more harshly onto her opponent everytime she performed an hop-throw, if she positioned her feet or fists correctly, she could fracture a skull when reaching the ground.

Getting around wasn't as hard as it was before, what with her other senses collecting more power to the point of supernatural as she grew up. Why couldn't this have happened when she was mute? Was it because it didn't hinder her much? Or was it because she wasn't exposed to activities in order to strengthen her other senses? The latter seemed logical so she opted for that explanation.

While hand-to-hand was obviously her strong point, she didn't forget to improve her skills with the two bamboo sticks she called 'weapons'. She was this close to making Gyendo, but when she realized that specializing in fast kendo was custom, she discarded the notion. There was no need to throw about or lock her opponent, she could maneuver, twist and turn, jump, all the while striking, be it from above, side to side, or below. She knew that Koshiro was at wits' end digging up past knowledge to teach her, and soon enough he'd have to stop too. Soon enough, so she would be on her own from then.

But it didn't matter. She was indulging to the best she could, she didn't want to waste her second chance. Because like she learned from the past, death was around every corner, just waiting to strike without caring the victim.

* * *

Zoro flexed his muscles, his swords clinking at his hip with his vision trained onto the dojo he just discovered. After washing up on Shimotsuki Village, he was more than elated to find out that there was indeed a professional dojo within the village. After defeating a number of dojo leaders before, Zoro gladly accepted the title as a challenger and visited Shimotsuki in order to strengthen that name.

Overlooking the dojo, it didn't seem much. Like a small compound of some sorts, but it took up most of the village. He didn't doubt the fact that the leader was capable, but he also didn't doubt the fact that he was able to defeat them. He skidded down the hill he was perched upon, directing his path towards the gate. This was going to be easy. Utter the challenge, introduce himself, and make quick work of the teacher. He'd have another name to aid his title, and-

"Excuse me? Is someone there?" Zoro froze when fingers brushed his shoulders, before there was a firm pat. "Ah! Kiba, is that you? Naomi-baka-sensei's waiting for those eggplants from the market."

Zoro silently turned on his feet, and his dark eyes pinned into pale mint. There were pupils, though it was like a sheet of fog was pulled over it, and they were aimed at his collarbone instead of his face. It was a girl, his height, though just slightly taller. Her platinum—or was it completely silver?—hair was peeled back into a short ponytail, fringes framing her face. Her lips were upturned in a small smile, obviously for this 'Kiba' person, which was definitely not Zoro.

"I'm..." Zoro couldn't exactly pick his words. He never spoke to a blind person—was she blind? He was pretty sure of himself—, he didn't need to go around offending one too. "Uh..."

The girl's smile faltered, though she put up a new one, despite it being somewhat forced. "Ah. You're not Kiba. Are you new around here? I've never seen—er, heard—you around," the girl asked, tilting her chin up in order to level her face with Zoro's. Her eyes strayed off to his forehead and Zoro cursed his late growth.

"Are you a student here?" Zoro asked, trying to be polite. Damn, he never really had to handle disabled people. Wait... shit! He realized that he was pointing at the gate. What the hell was he thinking? Luckily he didn't inflict any harm, proven by how the girl's smile bloomed slightly. "Isshin Dojo? Yeah. Been for a couple of years now."

No words were exchanged as the girl lightly pushed Zoro out of the way and pushed the door open, walking straight ahead, headed up the stairs to what Zoro assumed was the dojo. "Koshiro-ji-sensei!" she called out loudly, and after a few beats, a tall and willowy man emerged from behind a sliding door. His wispy eyes were behind round spectacles, looking down at the short blind girl with snowy hair. "What's the matter, Monroe?"

"You have a challenger," Monroe replied nonchalantly, jabbing a thumb at the gate. Zoro nearly whirled around to see if there was someone behind him, before stopping himself short when he realized that she meant him. How did she know? Was she supernatural? A seer? Gossip said that seers were blind, too. But Zoro didn't believe in that magic mumbo jumbo... did he?

"Is that so, boy?" the Koshiro man clarified, eyes travelling up to the stiff Zoro. Zoro immediately shook the freezing sensation off his joints and bravely marched into the dojo walls. "Yes I am," Zoro spoke up. Koshiro mustered a small smirk that stirred a suspicious feeling in Zoro's stomach. Wait... Zoro's eyes widened in surprise. There were three buildings, did that mean that there were three dojos in one complex?

"Challengers are rare these days," Koshiro remarked, his signature smile put up, radiating an air of wisdom. "But don't worry. We accept your challenge."

"But the question is," Koshiro added afterwards, glasses glinting. "Which sensei are you challenging, boy?"

Shit. Shit. Were there two kendo sensei's? He could take the lead one, right? But what if there was two subjects, and two separate sensei's? And the other sensei practiced in something like... like swimming?

Koshiro chuckled, signifying that Zoro's face was publically displaying confusion. "No worries, a representative is right here," Koshiro patted the shoulder of the blind girl, who was glaring ahead, but beamed when Koshiro introduced her. "I do hope you have some knowledge in judo."

"H-hey!" Zoro exclaimed. He did know judo, though he wasn't the best, he was sure he could at least tie the teacher... or in this case, defeat the blind girl. "Don't underestimate me because I'm young!"

"Don't underestimate me because I'm blind!" Monroe retorted, folding her arms before huffing. Zoro stopped himself short when he realized his outburst. "That's enough," Koshiro intercepted sternly. "Boy, if you do wish to challenge this dojo, you will need to challenge both subjects. There is no shame in passing this up."

"Yes there is!" Zoro replied readily. With a subtle scowl, he glanced at Monroe. "I... I'll take her on."

Monroe smirked just slightly.

* * *

The kendo students cleared up like the Red Sea, scattering and huddling up against the wall as the challenger and the representative each prepared a stance. Zoro furrowed his brows as he observed his opponent. He wasn't the best at judo, but he knew enough to fend for himself without his swords. He didn't want to offend, but his opponent was... blind.

It was fine. He might blunder some moves, but if he learnt to stay out of Monroe's range, he was fine. After exchanging a brief bow, Koshiro cleared his throat before declaring,

"Hajime!"

Zoro zipped forward, determined to make quick work of this duel. The blind girl remained stationary in her position, but Monroe knew what Zoro was doing. Every sidestep, the path he took, the wooden floor creaked under his feet. The wind whistled where his form sliced through. A small smirk graced her lips. Too easy.

Zoro's leg shifted close, body tilted sideways as he hooked an arm around Monroe's left shoulder, gripping Monroe's right as well, in order to throw the girl and finish the battle quickly. But what he didn't expect, was for Monroe to reach down, deliver a small blow above Zoro's calves and sweep him up. Before he noticed, Monroe was carrying Zoro like a surfboard.

 _Shit_.

And without mercy, Monroe slammed Zoro down the beams. Zoro gasped when a pain shot up his spine, cursing the power of the throw. He attempted to sit up, though it was in vain when Monroe gripped his shoulders and pressed his form down to the ground, performing a flip over the greenheaded boy before two of her arms hooked around his neck and arm, held in place and strain.

"Might as well give up," Monroe whispered into Zoro's ear. The mosshead grit his teeth when a finger delicately brushed a particular part of his neck that he knew all too well. "You don't wanna be floored by a blind girl after you doubted her, right?"

Silence ensued, and Monroe knew that Zoro wouldn't so easily give up, and the consideration if actually activating that pressure point was tucked away. Twenty seconds left, Koshiro was counting mentally.

"C'mon," Monroe muttered, tightening the grip. Though nearly inaudible, she could hear Zoro choke. "You have approximately fifteen seconds."

Like hell he was going to give up. He had two good arms, what the Hell were they doing? With a grunt Zoro tried to twist himself out of the hold, swinging up his arms and utilizing the strength he garnered from sword-training to break free from the grip. Monroe didn't even struggle, in fact she seemed content when Zoro skidded away from her. Zoro didn't waste any time, despite his sore back he charged forward and didn't let Monroe collect herself—but she heard, she knew Zoro's tactics. If he wanted speed, she'll give him speed.

Zoro was wrong to doubt the blind girl. After he had surged forward to subject the girl to a throw, Monroe had disappeared from sight. Behind you, his insticts told him. So he had swiftly turned around, and a flurry of silver flashed above him. It went on, the girl was overwhelmingly quick, able to avoid throws or pins with ease. Somersaults, flips, even just running. Zoro would never admit to anyone that he had a hard time even detecting the _BLIND_ girl.

And Monroe? Well, she got a tad bored with all the flipping.

"Monroe," Koshiro called out suddenly. "First shido." And crap, she was playing too defensively.

Zoro was strong, but in the presence of her, that was a disadvantage. Heavy can't race light. She tried running, but no arms hooked around to throw her. She stretched a distance between Zoro and stayed put. Shifting, and silence. She knew Zoro saw her, and when three steps forward to reach her sounded, an arm shot out to capture her. Monroe grabbed it and tugged it down to tumble Zoro, before sidestepping and trapping Zoro in another pin. No, she wouldn't wait another twenty seconds. Quickly, she jabbed a pressure point and sighed in relief when Zoro was temporarily paralyzed.

"Yame," Koshiro declared, arm shot up besides him, and when Monroe released Zoro the boy regained mobility afterwards. The paralysis didn't last long, long enough for Koshiro to stop the match. Zoro rolled off with a deep scowl, and rose up.

"The victor is Monroe," Koshiro promulgated with a monotone voice, and Monroe beamed subtly, trying hard to suppress the pride. Zoro pressed his glare down the beams, shame radiating from his very person when Koshiro approached him. "There is no shame in losing. I am quite sure that this is your first-"

"I wanted to challenge you!" Zoro interrupted, blazing up his glare at Koshiro. "I didn't come here to do some dumb martial arts. I came here to challenge the swordsman. So come on!" Zoro stormed in dedication, but Koshiro merely watched the boy through calculating eyes.

"Your words are indeed right. But since you've decided your own terms, if I may, I'll declare mine," Koshiro said smartly, and Zoro folded his arms in a challenging manner. "If you lose, you will become a student here."

"Deal!" Zoro replied readily. No loss in that, right? If he did lose, that meant that he was about to study under the person who defeated him, learn exactly how that person achieved the upper hand in combat. But any determination was immediately extinguished when the man didn't draw his sword, instead he summoned a girl. A girl that was taller than Monroe, obviously older, a bamboo sword in her grip and a slight smirk.

"He's taking the Isshin Sisters by row," a whisper made itself audible in the dead silence of the room. Zoro clenched his fist. This again? "Hey! I challenged you, not her!" the taller girl snorted lightly.

Koshiro flicked a finger up the bridge of his nose, fixing his spectacles. "If you couldn't defeat her younger sister, I would like to see you challenge her older sister. Don't worry, Kuina dabbles in swordsmanship as well."

Monroe slid to sit besides her grinning mother, who immediately began to shower the child with acts displaying her pride. Emiko's considerable bust size actually made for comfortable cushions, Monroe didn't mind being smothered. At first she thought it was her lap, or maybe pillows that Emiko carried, but she found out the uncomfortable way.

Sounds ceased abruptly in the dojo, and Monroe knew that the fight was about to start. A fight Zoro wouldn't win. Her lips twitched up into a small smile at the thought of spending her time growing up with one of her favorite characters- would he act differently? Did he have a different side to him? These questions haunted her and she resolved to have them answered.

"Hajime."

* * *

As expected. Unfortunately, Monroe had to say she actually enjoyed the thud that resonated everytime Zoro was sent flying by one of Kuina's attacks, but they were immediately tailed by amazement because the boy still gripped onto determination. But all good things had to come to an end, and Monroe felt a hint of disappointment when Koshiro stopped the match and she could hear Zoro huff in the same tone of sadness mixed with fatigue.

"Yame," Koshiro called out, and it rang clear following Zoro's thud. If Monroe remembered correctly, Kuina had slammed the bamboo sword down his face. She winced inwardly just imagining it, that was like Naomi's fist to the face, the only differing fact was that Naomi's fists were probably steel, not sticks.

Silence blanketed the dojo, and Monroe could hear footsteps nearing her and her mother. Kuina? But before her cousin coukd reach them, Monroe heard those inspiring words from the anime before her very ears.

Zoro grit his teeth, eyes holing a glare at Kuina's back. "Hey!" he exclaimed, stopping Kuina in her tracks and instantly inviting the attention of everybody present. Silence ensued when Zoro inhaled deeply. "I'll continue, continue, continue, and continue to train," he declared with a rasp. "And I will beat you."

Kuina frowned. " _Remember that_!" Zoro finished with determination fueling his voice and volume.

Of course. Monroe didn't expect the rivalry treatment from Zoro branching to her too, but she practiced Nittoryu as well. That meant an advantage, though Zoro probably handled a different style than she did. That didn't matter. What mattered was Zoro had virtually been accepted into the family, and one person in Monroe's mind would be fairly elated to see him.

The girl pecked her mother's cheek softly before leaping out of the smothering embrace, and walking slowly to Zoro. There was no sound, she realized, and stopped herself short before she could look like an idiot.

"Uh..." she mumbled quietly, reaching an arm out. "Is... uh..."

 _Goddamnit, words, why can't you just roll of the-_

Monroe's berating thoughts were silenced when cold fingers tentatively prodded hers. Those weren't Kuina's, her fingers were longer, somewhat smoother. This palm had a coarse and rough texture, chapped skin apparent. The silence was almost damning and Monroe could feel her cheeks burning when she enclasped her fingers around the inviting hand.

Yup, this was definitely Zoro, unless the students somehow dispersed into their rows without making any sound that Monroe could hear, and she could hear pretty damn well.

"Zoro?"

"...what do you want?"

Monroe smiled through her embarrassed flushed cheeks. "Nosebleeds are never fun. C'mon, let's getcha cleaned up."

* * *

"You brat, stay still!"

"Ow, ow, ow! I said it hurts you witch!"

Emiko was beaming brightly, even the blind girl was, when she watched Naomi attempt to clean up Zoro's wounds. When the older sister led the small swordsman to her loudmouthed sibling, the judo expert had to take a minute to process the sight. The moss green hair, to the copper skin. It was unmistakable. The same baby she'd found when skimming the village, the same baby she'd carried back home with the happiest grin, the same baby she cried for when she gave him up in hopes of living a better life.

And by God Almighty, Naomi absolutely did not know how to react.

It started out as lightly slapping the boy—eliciting some small protests and struggle from him—that evolved into a bone-crushing hug that left Naomi guffawing with a horrific tone. Zoro had tried to wrestle out of the terrifying clutch, but Naomi couldn't be peeled off. She was just too damn overwhelmed. It took the combined efforts of Emiko and Monroe to pry the woman off Zoro, and even then she was spluttering incoherent sentences.

"Is she mental?!" Zoro had protested comically, but Monroe had pressed a palm against his face before abruptly switching course to his shoulder and giving him a shove. "Let her calm down a bit, then ask that," she'd said, and then herded him into the small dojo.

And when Naomi did explain—or at least attempt to, Emiko had to pick up her voice from time to time to elaborate—Zoro ceased all thoughts screaming that the judo sensei was a madwoman. In fact, it was replaced with an overwhelming sensation and laced with gratitude. And to Monroe's absolute surprise, he remained disturbingly calm when Naomi ranted on about an irresponsible 'Keira-san' and nearly smashing a wooden beam.

And when Naomi smuggled the cotton and water from Monroe to clean Zoro's face, the swordsman accepted it wordlessly.

But two loudmouths could only stay peaceful for so long.

"Ow- OW! Don't press you bi-"

"Shut your mouth, ungrateful brat!"

"Ow! Why the Hell did you hit me?!"

"Learn a bit of respect brat!"

"Why the Hell should I respect you, you're mental!"

"Because starting today I'm your fucking mother!"

And at that last statement, Zoro fell into a hush as he was bewildered by the statement. Naomi puffed her cheeks and began dabbing the cotton more gently. "Just stay fucking still, you stubborn marimo," Naomi muttered.

And through it all, Monroe was beaming so hard her face nearly split in half. _Welcome on-board, future greatest swordsman in the world._

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, I'll admit it, this chapter's weak. Sadly. Sorry about that ?.**

 **On the bright side, our marimo muscles his way in the storyline! Can I get a whoop-whoop? No? Sorry.**

 **On another note, the support is OVERWHELMING at best! It's unreal, and I'd like to thank everyone for lending me their support. I promise that I won't disappoint.**


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